To Find a Friend
by forever-nerdy
Summary: a 13 year old Sherlock founds himself friendless and lab partner-less. That is, until a kind new student by the name of John fills the position of not only classmate, but friend.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock brushed the hair from his eyes and shuffled to chemistry. This was his favourite time of the day. Even if he didn't have any friends, he would never be lonely, so long as science was on his side.

Just then, as if on cue, a came running up behind him, pushing him to the ground. He was tall with scraggly, mousy hair and a big nose. His name was Anderson (Sherlock had never bothered to learn his first name) and he hated him with a burning passion.

"Leave me alone, Anderson. I don't have the time, nor the patience for your stupidity at the moment." He stood proudly and dusted himself off.

Anderson scowled, thought a moment, and let a cruel smile curl on his small mouth, "I may not be as smart as you, but at least I got friends." He laughed.

"Who needs friends? They're all so dull anyway; I wouldn't waste my time with them."

"Just as well," Anderson, always loving the occasional battle of wits, let his horrible grin lay thicker on his lips, "No one would be friends with you, anyway." And with that, he scurried off up the hall, just as obnoxious and stupid as ever, Sherlock thought.

"Doesn't matter," he muttered angrily to himself, "He'll be working for me someday."

When he came into class, he noticed something off about the room. Surely Mrs. Higgins wasn't experimenting with a new scent of perfume for the third time this week. He directed his line of vision to her desk, and saw a short blonde boy standing there. He had a round face, blushing cheeks, and bright blue eyes; the kind of features one only sees on a kind face. she caught him staring and beckond him over.

"Sherlock Holmes, this is John Watson. He's new to London, and he'll be needing a lab partner for today. That'll be you."

"Sorry, Mrs. Higgins, I'd like to, truly, but I can't. You see, I already have a lab partner; Molly, remember?"

She glared for a moment. She had grown weary of Sherlock's smart-assery. "oddly enough, I do. She's no longer in this class."

His eyes grew wide and disbelieving. "No longer in this class? Why!"

"I dunno, Mr. Holmes, perhaps it's because a certain classmate of hers is constantly insulting her intelligence."

He crossed his arms and gritted his teeth, before letting free a terse "Fine." And storming off to the lab space.

"Is he usually…?" John began.

"'Fraid so." She sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

"If we're going to be lab partners, let's get something straight; I do the work, and you stand there and let me think, alright?" Even as he spoke, Sherlock adjusted his microscope, slid in the first specimen, and began taking notes.

"Are you sure you don't need any…?" John took the boy's fierce look as affirmation that he indeed did not. He picked up his own pencil and began doodling absentmindedly.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock snapped up from his work to stare at John. His icy eyes bore into him, but with curiosity this time.

"Er… nothing. Sketching, I suppose." His ears suddenly heated, and he couldn't help but stare directly into his eyes.

Sherlock leaned across the table to glimpse the boy's work, but he reched it away before he got the chance. "What is it?"

"N-nothing. It doesn't matter. I thought you wanted to work, anyway."

"I've finished." He said simply, still trying to view the drawing.

"Already? That took you, what? Five minutes? Everyone else is only just starting."

Sherlock shrugged, "I'm quicker. But what have you drawn, John, let me see!" he reached until his full torso was lying across the desk and snatched it up.

"Give it back!" John shouted, bouncing slightly on the tips of his toes, striving to reach the illustration his lab partner now held above his head.

But it was no use; Sherlock held the now slightly crumpled paper to the light and frowned. "Is this supposed to be me?" It was a cartoon of a large headed version of Sherlock complete with fangs, horns, and blood dripping from his gapping mouth.

John opened his mouth to apologize, but all that escaped was a burst of laughter. His hands flew up to muffle the noise, but the damage was done. Sherlock glowered at him before marching out of the classroom, res faced. He told himself he wasn't bothered, and that this incident was no worse than anything else his classmates had done to him, but tears had already begun to form.


End file.
